A Week of Dates
by fizzingweaselbee
Summary: A Pureblood!Hermione fic: NEWT year is stressful, and when Draco walks straight into Hermione Granger in the corridor, he didn't know how much more complicated it could get.
1. The Beginning

_**AN:**__ This drabble series initially started off on DefDrabbles, but I decided to continue it on here as it seemed so popular. The first five parts have already been posted on the blog, but there will be an additional seven (possibly eight) parts. This is only a drabble fic, so the chapters might be shorter than normal, but we'll see how it goes._

* * *

NEWT year was hell for everyone, even Draco Malfoy; hence why he was walking through the corridors buried in his Charms notes, as were many other seventh year students. He didn't bother to glance up – people saw the blond of his hair and cleared a pathway – such was the prestige of the Malfoy name. So when Draco walked straight into someone, his notes and theirs falling in a flurry of parchment, his first thought was to curse the first year who hadn't moved fast enough.

"Why in the Hell didn't you move?" Draco demanded, but when the girl raised her head he realised his mistake. "Oh, sorry Granger. Didn't realise it was you." He amended stiffly.

Hermione waved away his apology, stooping to pick up the mass of parchment. "Were you studying Charms?" She asked, sifting through the paper to find her own notes.

"Yes, why?" Draco held his hand out for half of the pile, and the pair headed for a window alcove with enough room to sit.

Hermione huffed out a sigh. "Because I was too. And the damned calligraphy lessons mean our handwriting is close to identical." It was true. Being a Pureblood definitely had benefits, but this was a drawback.

"Fuck, you're right." Hermione sighed again, and they feel into silence.

"Are you going to the Parkinsons' this weekend?" Hermione asked, not glancing up from her scrutiny of the pages.

Draco groaned, having forced the thought from his mind until then. "Unfortunately. I'm hoping to find the nearest alcohol cabinet and drown myself in it."

"Send me a note when you find one, I'll join you." Draco looked at Hermione out of the corner of his eye, unused to Pureblood women who didn't like the gatherings.

He finished separating his pile of notes, and turned to look at her. "You're not a fan of it all?"

Hermione shrugged. "They're alright, I just loathe the Parkinsons. They've wanted to set me up with their eldest son for years, and he's vile." Hermione finished sorting her notes, and picked up her pile. "But I'll see you this weekend – I'll see if I can wrangle some Firewhiskey." She smiled at him before departing, and Draco was left with an odd but pleasant bubbling in his stomach.


	2. The Parkinson Party

Draco started looking for her as soon as he walked in, studiously avoiding the gaze of anyone who'd be tempted to talk to him. After he hadn't spotted her, he resigned himself to hiding next to a statue of a Parkinson ancestor, nursing some vile but expensive wine.

After an hour, and several dull conversations, a fluttering piece of paper flew up to him. Looking at a group of giggling girls from the year below who kept glancing his way, Draco rolled his eyes.

**_I found the cabinet – third floor in the East Wing._**

He grinned as he realised who'd written it, keeping his head down as he walked out of the room and up the stairs, navigating the house as easily as if it were his own.

"I thought you'd never turn up." Hermione turned to face him, holding out a bottle of expensive-looking vodka.

Draco held it up to her in a mini toast, eyes moving over her appreciatively. "Well, you could have found the cabinet a bit quicker. I had to endure an hour and a half of drivel."

Hermione rolled her eyes, taking the bottle back. Draco watched her throat as she swallowed. "Terribly sorry, I had to explain some homework to Weasley. He saw me all dressed up and figured that it was a brilliant time to talk to me." She shook her head, curly hair falling back to show her shoulders.

"Well, Weasley sees a nice figure and his brain takes a vacation."

"As if I'd lower myself." Draco smirked at the words, leaning against the wall so he and Hermione's arms brushed.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. "How'd you manage to skip right up here then, Granger? I can never avoid the main room." Draco asked, keen for a change of subject.

"My parents are usually drunk by this time, so they don't notice, and I couldn't care less about the rest of them." She shrugged her shoulders. "No offense meant to your family, of course." Draco blinked at the return of her formality, surprised that he hadn't noticed how she'd dropped the carefully cultured Pureblood way of speaking.

This time he shrugged his shoulders. "I'd drop them if I could, but I'm stuck with them 'til I marry someone who'll likely be just as bad."

"Maybe you'll get lucky." Hermione smiled. "I should go and make an appearance, at least. See you at school." And with that she was gone, leaving Draco to watch her walk away, the bubbling feeling in his stomach having returned in full force.


	3. Dropping Hints

After the Parkinson party, Draco actively sought Hermione out. He knew she spent a lot of time in the library, so he moved his studying from their Common Room to there. But despite this, and the fact they shared nearly all of their classes, it was outside their Potions exam when he next had the chance to speak with her.

"Thank Merlin, I thought I was going to be late for sure." Hermione leant against the wall, her usually perfect hair shoved into a messy bun. She noticed a half-smirk on Draco's lips and her hand shot to her head. "I must look a fright. Some jumpstart halfblood from sixth year cornered me in the Common Room."

Draco bit his tongue on the words he wanted to say. "You don't look frightful, Granger. And you should have just hexed the kid's mouth shut."

"As if I had time to find my wand." She paused. "Goyle's this weeked?"

Draco nodded, his half-smirk widening to a smile. "Of course, he's one of dad's oldest friends." He rolled his eyes, and Hermione smiled. "I already know where they keep the alcohol, though, and it's good stuff." He continued, and Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Well, my parents are forcing me to arrive with them this time, so I'll probably see you on the dance floor rather than in an old wing." She wrinkled her nose.

Draco shrugged, trying not to show his disappointment. "Well, send me one of those bird things if you can escape."

"I shall." Was all she said in reply, straightening her skirt and moving to where she should have been standing in line, a feeling of disappointment settling in her stomach that Draco hadn't caught her hint.


	4. Jealousy and Dancing

Draco wasn't in a fantastic mood.

He'd seen Hermione and her parents enter – everyone had – but he'd yet to spend a minute with the brunette, namely because of her many, many suitors.

She was currently dancing with Pansy's brother, and Draco narrowed his eyes as the older man began dropping his hands below her waist. Draco finished off his drink, striding into the mass of spinning couples and plastering on a smile.

"Excuse me, Parkinson, that's my girl you're manhandling." He hissed, cutting between the couple rather abruptly. If Hermione disliked the lie, she made no action to show it, stepping into Draco's embrace without hesitation.

Parkinson shrugged, hurriedly wiping his face blank of its scowl and moving away.

"That was forward of me, I apologise." Draco switched smoothly back to Pureblood manners.

Hermione smiled. "It's fine, thank you for saving me from him." She paused. "I feel like we should at least dance, seeing as you interrupted the last one." Draco relaxed at her teasing tone, and he placed his hands on her waist, smiling when she laced her fingers at the back of his neck instead of resting them on his shoulders.

They moved in slow circles, Draco unable to keep his smirk under check every time she had to move closer to him.

"You look to be in a better mood than before." Hermione commented, glad she was better at masking her feelings.

Draco nodded, his eyes dropping to her lips as the music finished. Slowly, he tilted his head towards hers, ensuring that she'd have time to move away if she wanted. Instead, Hermione lifted her chin up, capturing his lips and pressing her body against his. A new song began, but they stayed motionless except for Draco's arms, which moved to encircle Hermione's waist, as if he could pull her closer.

They finally broke away, lips redder than before.

"Want to find that abandoned wing you were talking about?" Hermione asked, and Draco's lips quirked up as he took her hand, pulling her out of the room.


	5. The Dilemma

This wouldn't go over well, Hermione knew, as she walked over to where Draco sat – thankfully alone. He looked up from his book when he saw her, a smirk flashing across his face.

"Hello, Hermione." He said, moving his feet off of the chair opposite him and gesturing for her to sit. Hermione cleaned the chair off with a flick of her wand, delicately sitting on the edge of it. "I thought you weren't planning on talking to me again, it's been a long while." Draco said conversationally, closing his book.

Hermione tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. "Yes, well, my parents weren't too pleased with me leaving hallway through the night and then not returning until the following morning looking 'like a Mudblood harpy', in the words of my mother." That drew a smile from Draco, but Hermione sighed, knowing she had to be serious.

"But you couldn't resist my charms?" Draco teased, pulling his chair closer to hers so their knees touched.

Hermione let out a laugh in spite of herself. "Something along those lines. I actually wanted to propose something to you. You'd have a week to think about it."

Draco tilted his head in confusion. "Yes, I will go out with you, Hermione. Why would I need a week to think about it?"

"Because that wasn't what I was asking, you dolt." Hermione took a deep breath to calm herself. "As fun as that night was, it's left us with a consequence," her hand moved to her belly, and Draco's eyes widened, his face turning white. "We have two options – you ask my father for my hand in marriage, we rush the wedding and have a 'premature' baby. Or we get rid of it."

Silence grew between them, and Hermione cursed herself for having ruined something amazing just because of a stupid mistake.

"Those have to be the options, don't they? I can't take you out for dinner first?" Draco asked weakly.

Hermione smiled bitterly. "It's not ideal, is it?"

"Not even in the slightest – I wanted to…" he trailed off, and Hermione's heart dropped at what could have been at the end of that sentence. "One week, yes?" He asked, suddenly perking up a little.

Hermione frowned. "Yes, you can owl me if you'd rather."

"I'll get back to you." Draco said, not concentrating on what Hermione was saying, too busy planning the next week to notice a tear slip from Hermione's eye and down her cheek before she left.

* * *

_**AN:**__ And so ends the already posted chapters - from here on out it's all new stuff._


	6. Date One: Hogsmeade

The day after her conversation with Draco, Hermione received an owl at the breakfast table.

While this wasn't unusual, the bird was, and Hermione detached the letter, slicing the edge of the envelope with her butter knife.

The contents made her frown, and then smile.

**_I've got a week. On the cards today is Hogsmeade, if you'd oblige me._**

**_~Draco Malfoy_**

Hermione looked around for Draco at the table, but came up blank – Crabbe and Goyle sat alone today. Stumped, she finished her breakfast in silence, reading a letter from her mother in exasperation before getting up to go to Potions.

* * *

She'd almost made it across the Entrance Hall when someone grabbed her, pulling her back into the shadows of an alcove. "Wrong way." Draco muttered into her ear, and Hermione shivered at his breath on her neck.

"I'm quite certain Potions takes place in the dungeons." Hermione countered, suppressing a smile.

Draco grinned, tapping her on the head with his wand before taking her hand. "Potions can wait a week." He replied, disillusioning himself as they hurried out of the Entrance hall and into the brisk November air. "Here," Hermione felt a warm cloak being wrapped around her, and she smiled in thanks before realising Draco couldn't see her.

"Thank you." She squeezed the hand she was holding, the other pulling his cloak tighter around her.

They finished the walk out of Hogwarts' grounds in silence, Hermione moving the snow behind them to cover their footprints after Hagrid's confused stare at the tracks leading to nowhere. They both snickered when Malfoy tripped up Weasley and Potter, the confused and angry looks on their faces enough to give Hermione stitches.

"I need to be invisible more often." Hermione said once they'd removed the spell, wiping a tear from her eye. "People act so differently when they think nobody's watching."

Draco watched her laugh with a smile on his face, gesturing for her to start walking. Their hands brushed as the moved up the high-street; Draco hooked his arm through Hermione's, steering them into Honeydukes with a mischievous grin.

"What are you going to do?" Hermione asked warily, well aware of Draco's notoriety.

He laughed. "Don't worry, I'll be good." Hermione's cautious look remained. "I won't feed you anything awful. Just close your eyes." Hermione did so, and she heard Draco instructing the owner to put everything on his tab. A minute passed, and Hermione's eyes twitched.

Then a hand was gently cupping her chin, fingers pressing lightly on her jawbone. Hermione opened her mouth, struggling not to flinch when something soft was placed on her tongue. She shut her mouth slowly, opening her eyes as she chewed.

"What is this?" She asked, warmth trickling down her throat as she swallowed.

Draco smiled, dropping his hand from her face. "Solid hot chocolate. Brilliant, isn't it?"

Hermione nodded, her eyes darting around the shelves. "Do I get to give you something now?" She asked, and Draco answered by shutting his eyes.

Hermione took longer to decide, tapping Draco's lips lightly with a finger when she'd found something. Obligingly, he opened his mouth, and Hermione placed the sweet in his mouth, watching in amusement as Draco's mouth snapped shut, eyes opening as he bit down.

"Honeydukes fudge." He said, a happy glow in his eyes. "My favorite kind, in fact."

Hermione shrugged, secretly pleased with her correct choice. "I pay attention. These things are good to know."

"Yes they are." Draco eyed her proudly. "My turn." Hermione shut her eyes more readily this time, anticipation rather than dread flooding through her.

A minute passed, and then another. Hermione's hand began to itch, and she cracked her eyelids open to see Draco nose-to-nose with her.

"Cheater." He breathed, before pressing his lips to hers. He tasted of fudge and spearmint, and she of chocolate and honey, and her hands fisted in his hair when he nibbled on her bottom lip.

Draco broke away, breathing a little heavily. "Three Broomsticks?" He asked, and Hermione nodded, cheeks flushed and eyes bright.

* * *

The rest of the day passed very much like a first date would – they ordered lunch at the Three Broomsticks, but sat and talked long after their after-meal coffees had cooled. They stopped off again at Honeydukes to buy large quantities of the things they'd fed each other, plus a few additional things that Draco kept a secret, merely telling Hermione that she'd find out what they were soon enough.

But night fell early, and so they headed back to the castle, making sure to hide themselves until they reached the lake.

"Thank you, for today." Hermione said as they neared the Entrance Hall, she still clad in his cloak. "It wasn't what I expected when I said you could owl me."

Draco smirked. "I'll see you at dinner, Hermione." He said, and when he kissed her, he rested a hand on her stomach.

Hermione headed to the dungeons with a thousand thoughts tearing through her mind, the main one being how much she wished that day could have lasted forever.


	7. Date Two: Dinner

She didn't want to be looking for him, she had sternly told herself not to. But that didn't mean she couldn't wear a little of that fudge flavoured lip balm, and he'd told her that he liked her hair in a plait over her shoulder…

As much as she told herself not to expect anything, Hermione couldn't help but feel a little disappointed when breakfast yielded no Draco – not even a letter or an explanation from his friends.

_Potions. _She thought. _He can hardly skip this close to NEWTs_.

But he did, and Hermione smiled and nodded as Astoria Greengrass babbled about the upcoming Christmas and New Year parties, all the while wondering if she should just take the bottle hidden under her bed, Draco's opinion be damned.

"Hermione! You're not listening to a thing I've said." Astoria waved her hand in front of Hermione's face, and she shook her head, turning back to face the blonde.

She plastered on a smile. "Sorry, Astoria, I'm dreadfully tired today. What were you saying?"

"I was asking whether red or black would be better to wear to the Malfoy's event, especially because I hear that Mr and Mrs Malfoy are still looking for someone for Draco." Astoria leaned in conspiratorially for the last part of the sentence, as if it were juicy gossip.

Hermione studied her for a second. "Red will look better for Christmas, save black for New Year's." She replied in a monotone, turning back to face the front of the class where Snape continued to give out notes on the properties of dragon's blood.

* * *

"Y'alright Granger?" Hermione's initial smile dropped infinitesimally when she saw it was only Blaise who had slid in opposite her.

She shrugged. "Sprout's essay is killing me." She gestured to the stacks of books surrounding where she worked.

"Yeah, Herbology's a bitch," They fell into silence, and Hermione wondered why the – admittedly beautiful – boy had come to sit with her in the first place. Blaise picked up a book from the top of the pile, leafing through it before putting it down in front of her. "Nice talking to you, Granger." He said, smiling as he stood. Hermione watched him leave in confusion, shaking her head and turning back to retry the essay.

By the time she looked up from her essay again, night was drawing in, and Hermione swore when she saw the time. It was only when she was putting all her books in a haphazard pile when a piece of parchment fell out of one of the books, and Hermione remembered Blaise looking through it.

She unfolded the paper, recognising the handwriting immediately.

**_Something nicer for today. Wear a dress your parents might not approve of, but I definitely will. I'll be in the Hall at 6:30._**

**_~Draco Malfoy_**

Hermione blanched as she read the final sentence, taking out her wand and muttering a spell, nearly running out of the library; leaving behind the stacks of books that had begun to reshelve themselves.

* * *

If Draco felt a little out of place in his black suit, his outward appearance didn't reflect it. He leant against the pillar by the stairs, hands in his pockets. While having the desired nonchalant effect, this also prevented him from checking his watch every five seconds, because she should be here by now.

The entrance hall slowly emptied as students filtered in for dinner, so the clicking of heels against stone echoed through the room.

Hermione slowed to a walking pace as she reached the top of the stairs, unable to restrain a smile when Draco pushed off the wall to wait for her at the base, a look of what could only be called shock in his eyes.

"Sorry I'm late, Blaise wasn't a brilliant owl." Hermione apologised as she reached the bottom step, pausing.

Draco dragged his eyes back to hers, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. "It was worth the wait." He promised, and Hermione almost kissed him, but he turned, offering her his arm.

"Might I ask where we're going, and how we're getting there?" Hermione asked, enjoying the looks a group of fifth year girls were giving them.

Draco noticed the straightening of her back and suppressed a smile. "Dumbledore was surprisingly accommodating." He replied, opening the door to the carriage with a little bow. "M'lady," Hermione took his hand, nodding her head to him as she climbed in, Draco following in suit a little less gracefully.

"I wasn't sure about travelling, but I hear Italy is lovely this time of year, and I haven't been since first year…" Again, Hermione had to resist the urge to kiss him, choosing instead to let out an inelegant noise of happiness.

She looked up at him through her lashes, excitement flushing her cheeks. "Are we going to Italy?" She asked.

"Technically, we're already here." He smirked at Hermione's confusion. "Thestrals are interesting creatures," He could see her mind turning as she worked that over, and a smiling Draco opened the carriage door into a deserted alleyway, jumping out and offering his hand to Hermione as she stepped down. He entwined their fingers as they walked out of the dark and into the lantern lit high-street, stopping to ask a vendor for directions in fluent Italian.

"I've never been to Italy, you know." Hermione said as they walked, pausing to admire a stall.

"I've never been to Venice, so it's a first for both of us." Draco replied, and Hermione smiled.

* * *

After a quiet word with the waiter, Draco led Hermione to a table by the window, where two glasses of wine already sat.

"I already ordered for us, as our time is limited." Draco said, half-apologetically, and Hermione shrugged.

"I trust you," she went back to looking out of the window to hide her surprise at how easily those words fell out of her mouth, especially as her mother raised her to be slightly suspicious of Pureblood men, no matter how charming they were, because charming was what they'd been trained to be.

Draco took her hand across the table, and stroked his thumb over her wrist, happy to watch her staring out of the glass.

Not too long after, their first course arrived, and Hermione cast a surreptitious warming charm before shrugging out of her cardigan. Draco looked up from his plate and froze, his fork halfway to his mouth.

"Those are terrible table manners you have there, Mr Malfoy." Hermione teasingly admonished, but Draco seemed to not hear her, reaching across the table to run a finger under the navy blue strap of her dress. "Inappropriate." She whispered, and Draco pulled his hand back, but Hermione rested her foot on his leg as he did so.

"So is you being dressed like that." Draco mumbled; the satisfied smirk that graced Hermione's lips made his stomach drop.

Hermione took his hand when their plates were cleared, flipping it so it face palm up.

"Are you going to use your Divination skills on me?" Draco asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Hermione laughed. "Ah yes, the class I stormed out of in third year." She traced the lines of his palm.

"The first time I noticed you, in all honesty." Draco said, and Hermione smiled, not looking up. "Your hair was a fright and you were flushed from the heat of the room, I think. You dropped the crystal ball, and it smashed several of Trelawney's tea cups."

Hermione looked up. "Scandalous, I'm sure, was what you thought. It was all my mother would talk about for weeks."

"As a thirteen year old boy, I doubt scandalous was in my vocabulary." His voice had dropped, and Hermione leant a little closer to him.

She shook her head. "Please, your vocabulary was bigger than all of Hufflepuff's put together – the perks of a Pureblood education."

Draco closed the distance between them, and Hermione moved her hand from his wrist to his forearm, the wine and the kiss making her head light.

Just before they left, Draco would leave the waiter a bigger tip than he might have done otherwise, if only for the prolonged delay between their main and dessert which led to an uninterrupted half hour for the couple in the window.


End file.
